


The Doctor: A Persuasion Novella

by MorganAW



Category: AUSTEN Jane - Works, Persuasion - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 11:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13387065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganAW/pseuds/MorganAW
Summary: While enjoying the countryside in their new gig, Sophy is unable to prevent the admiral from running foul of a dung-cart. Luckily Anne Elliot hears the crash and is able to tend to the wounded.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, my audience poll had the most interest in more Persuasion. I'm sorry it's a bit short, but I write the amount of story that's in my head and I didn't want to dilute it only for length. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Licensing Note: Based on Characters and story lines from _Persuasion_ by Jane Austen. Text from Jane Austen is in  green. The tense, pronouns, or wording of these quotes may be slightly modified to fit the scene. All original content and plot for _The Doctor_ is released under a [Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International](https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/) license by Morgan A. Wyndham. Also published on fanfic.net by [MorganAW](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/9748539/).

Sophy Wentworth savored the feel of the wind at her face once more. This was what she missed most about being asea, the wind in her hair. In the month and a half that they had been ashore she’d felt nothing like it. They’d been a week in possession of Kellynch hall and this delightful gig was the newest addition to their establishment. If she closed her eyes, leaned slightly forward, and conjured up the memory of sea air, she could nearly imagine herself there again.

Not that she disliked Kellynch, the hall was beautiful and by far the most luxurious lodgings she’d ever held claim to. It was, however, a trifle too grand, too large for merely the admiral and her. Particularly after years of living on frigates and man-of-wars in close quarters with the sailors. Perhaps if they could persuade Frederick to join them it wouldn’t feel so empty. She also disliked the rigid class distinctions on shore. At the moment, her husband was in possession of a large fortune, which allowed him to let the palatial estate. But in the past, she had been merely the daughter of a curate with more mouths to feed than bread to fill them. When she married, she went to sea with her husband. She was the Captain’s wife — later promoted to Admiral — and therefore there was a deference from the crew, but there were always interactions. She could hold conversations with the sailors, tend to them when ill or injured, read or write letters for those who were illiterate. At Kellynch, she quickly found, the servants were unwilling to break their masks of servitude and have a conversation with her. She therefore found herself far more stifled on land in a grand estate than she ever had confined in a comparatively small ship full of men.

Opening her eyes, she startled and said with some urgence, "My dear Admiral, that post! we shall certainly take that post." But by coolly giving the reins a better direction herself they happily passed the danger. The Admiral had yet to gain his land-legs it would seem. She trusted her husband implicitly at the helm of a ship. He could thread a frigate through the tightest straights with as much ease as crossing a style from one field to the next. He had a mutual respect for the sea, the wind, and the tides that allowed him to prevail even in the harshest conditions. The carriage horse, however, did not seem to respect him as well as the sea, unimpressed as it was with his clumsy, unpracticed, and casual control over the reigns. This was not the first narrowly averted disaster they’d had. But so far Sophy had been able to subtly correct his mistakes.

She sighed and looked out over the countryside. So far, they’d limited their explorations to the gardens, groves, and prospects of the Kellynch estate as they’d hitherto lacked an open carriage, so this was the farthest they’d roamed. The rolling hills and neat fields of Somersetshire would never have the untamed beauty of the sea, but they were pretty, quiet, and serene. They crested the top of a hill and Sophy closed her eyes in anticipation of the increased speed on their descent.

"Blast!" Her husband’s exclamation forced her eyes open and she saw a dung cart, pulled by a donkey, crossing the intersection just at the foot of the hill. She reached out her hand to the reigns to help stop the gig, but they were moving too fast to stop, the donkey was moving too slow to clear them. She closed her eyes and braced for impact, as she’d done so many times on board ship. The horse made a terrible cry accompanied by the first jolt of impact. There was a brief sensation of weightlessness before she hit the ground in an explosion of pain and everything went black.

~~~

Anne was enjoying a brief respite in the form of a walk. Mary was resting, having convinced herself that she was truly ill. Anne had sat reading to her until she dozed off, at which point she implored a maid to sit by Mary lest she want for anything and slipped out of the cottage. Her mind wandered, as it often did, to the new occupants of Kellynch. The Crofts. Adriral and Mrs. Croft. Mrs. Sophia Croft, nee Wentworth. Sister to Captain Frederick Wentworth. Frederick. _Her Frederick._ Would he visit? Would he stay at Kellynch? She attempted to imagine which room he would be given. No doubt it would be in the family quarters. It was even possible ...

She had no need to steer her own thoughts away from such dangerous territory as Frederick’s sleeping arangements because at that moment she heard a heart-rending cry, followed by the unmistakable sounds of splintering wood, twisting metal, and human pain associated with a carriage crash. Without a thought she broke out in a run and within a moment she came upon the scene. With military precision, Anne took in the scene. A sporting vehicle had collided with a farm cart of some sort. The horse was trapped between the weight of the gig from above and the cart before it The poor creature was in evident pain, it’s front legs appeared broken where they had made impact. A gentleman lay prostrate atop the cart, evidently flung there from the gig. Anne did not like the unnatural angle at which he was sprawled. Mr. Thomas, the tenant farmer who was fertilizing his fields, appeared unharmed, and was tending to the gentleman. As she began to make her way toward the scene to offer what aid she could, she stopped up short as a well-dressed woman lay in a heap before her, thrown some five yards from the crash.

Anne dropped to her knees beside the woman and assured herself that she was in fact breathing. "She’s alive but unconscious," she shouted to Mr. Thomas, "how is he?"

"Out cold," he shouted back, "He’s no visible injuries, but I’m affeared of his back at that angle."

"Lets not move him until we’ve help." She quickly surveyed the woman and could see a rather badly broken leg and severe cuts along her face and hands, no doubt where she’d scraped against the ground on landing. "She’s got a broken leg and is bleeding quite a bit. I’ll stay with her as you go for help," Anne spoke with a command far greater than her usual manner. Elizabeth may give the orders in her household, but she was useless in a crisis and Anne knew when she must take control of a situation. Her mother had taught her all of the typical nursing skills necessary for women of their station, and there was a time when she had read extensively on treating wounds. She had thought such skills would come in handy if... But now was not the time to dwell on past regrets.

Without heeding any proprieties, she began tearing strips of fabric off of her middle petticoat to use as bandages. The leg was her first concern, the bone had punctured through the skin and it was bleeding badly. She could do nothing to set the bone here, but she wrapped a long strip of cotton above the break, twisting and tying it as tight as she could. She was pleased when the bleeding visibly lessened. Appropriating a piece of wood from the ruined gig, she bound the injured limb to it to minimize further damage in transit. She quickly bandaged off the cuts on the woman’s hands and arms then held a piece of fabric to the cut on her face.

She heard the rapid approach of feet. "Anne!" Her brother-in-law, Charles Musgrove called as they approached. "We met Mr. Thomas as we were out shooting. We’ve sent a servant for the apothecary and sent Mr. Thomas on to Uppercross to get more help and supplies, how are they?"

"I’ve not seen the gentleman ans Mr. Thomas saw to him before running for help, but she’s as stable as she’ll be until we can set this leg."

"We should get them up to Uppercross," Mr. Musgrove, Charles’s father said as he came up, panting from the run.

"Is that wise? The cottage is not half so far and my chamber is on the first floor, we may bring them there until we know more."

Charles, always willing to be led when difficult decisions were to be made, heartily replied, "Of course!"

Mr. Musgrove, eager to be of use, and not unaware of the smaller size of the Uppercross cottage compared to Uppercross manor, and of his daughter-in-law’s disposition, was hesitant to agree, but Anne’s arguments that it would be in the best interests of their patients soon prevailed.

As a small stream of servants approached with doors taken off of their hinges to transport the injured strangers, Anne first supervised moving the lady onto a door and gave instructions to remove her to the cottage and instill her in her own chamber. After Mr. Musgrove and Charles set off with her first patient, she turned her attention to the gentleman, as she approached, she was relieved to see the first signs of consciousness appear. "Try not to move," she told him gently, but with an air of command, as she approached, "you’ve been in an accident, I’m going to check you for injuries."

He was sprawled on his back with his head inside the cart and his back resting unevenly against the raised edge of the cart. Anne was far too short to do much from the ground, and very much dismayed to discover her patient was, indeed laying in a dung cart. But she was aware of the limited anatomical knowledge of her well-meaning brother-in-law and his father and therefore that _she_ had best check him before he was moved.

"Sophy?" He asked in a gruff voice, still disoriented.

"Her leg is broken, and she’s rather cut up. The bone broke through the skin and the wound was bleeding badly, but I put a tourniquet on her and it slowed the bleeding. We’ll know more when she regains consciousness." She answered as she climbed up behind his head and looked him over. "Luckily you don’t appear to have any open wounds, as contact with this fertilizer would surely increase the risk of infection. Can you move your hands and feet?" She asked as she plunged her hand beneath him and felt the length of his spine for injury. All four appendages moved in their turn. "Good, your spine seems to be in tact, I think you can get up now if you feel up to it"

"Are you a doctor?" He asked gruffly?

Anne shifted so she was above him and could offer him her hand. "Unfortunately, they tend to leave such titles to men, but I am a capable nurse." He looked up to her approvingly with clear green eyes.

"You’re a fair sight gentler and prettier to wake up to than most doctors and surgeons I’ve known, but you sure do talk like them." He said as he took her hand and slowly righted himself.

"Anne!" Charles said disapprovingly as he approached them, "You could have waited for me to return before climbing into ..." He trailed off and his nose wrinkled at the smell. Nonetheless, he offered his hand to help her down. "It’s hardly a place for a lady."

"I had to be sure of his injuries before he could move, and I was willing and able to help, would you have me risk his health for my own delicate sensibilities?"

Charles looked as if he might answer in the affirmative but her patient, stiff and sore, but otherwise no worse for the wear, forestalled him. "The doctor here had the foresight to put a tourniquet on a gaping leg wound and assure I had no damage to my spine after a severe blow to my back before I moved. Would you have had the knowledge to do so?"

Charles sputtered somewhat, unsure of his answer. This was apparently answer enough for him and he nodded and said: "Well, Miss, I’m glad _you_ were on hand to aid us and weren’t so missish to shy away from blood or dung to help strangers in need," he said with evident gratitude and admiration. "Admiral Croft, at your service," he attempted a bow, but found his head still too light and sore to properly perform such a maneuver. Valiantly ignoring her rising pulse at the identity of her patient, Anne held out her hand to steady him and led her disoriented patient to a cart brought by the servants for their service.

As they walked, she heard Charles finishing the introductions. "I’m Mr. Charles Musgrove, sir. This is Anne Elliot, she is my wife’s sister. We’ve taken Mrs. Croft to our home until she’s been seen by the apothecary." Anne climbed up on the cart with the Admiral, aware of the filth and blood that caked her morning gown. As they made the short trip back to the cottage, Anne counted her blessings that Frederick himself had not witnessed her present state yet marveled at the odds that she should be so near and able to aid _his_ sister.

It was not until hours later, after the apothecary had come and gone and Mrs. Croft was established as comfortably as possible in Anne’s own bed and a cot placed beside for Anne to nurse her, that she realized the consequences. Frederick would come — she had seen the Admiral writing to him. He would be here. Soon. In her bedchamber even, to visit his injured sister. She sat on the cot and attempted to discern whether she longed for or feared his arrival.


	2. (Re)introductions

_Frederick,_

_There’s been a carriage accident. Sophy’s injured. Luckily our clever young doctor was able to save her leg, but she’s still unconscious. Sophy’s been ordered to stay at a cottage nearby the accident for fear of further injury. Come immediately._

_~Croft_

Frederick blinked down at the short express from his brother-in-law. His sister had survived years living aboard ship during a war with little more than bumps and bruises and yet somehow managed to severely injure herself within two months of peace on shore. He began packing his belongings immediately. He would go, he would be there for his sister when she needed him. Sophy had been pressing him to visit them even before his ship hit port, but he had put off any definite response. There were too many memories in that house, that county, warning Frederick from returning. But now he would be forced to return to the location of his greatest humiliation and sorrow. Even if his fraternal duty did not urge him to Somersetshire, he would not disobey the summons. The admiral had left off their titles in his note, but the tenor was no less than an order from a ranking officer. Frederick cursed the cruel twist of fate that led them to rent _that_ house of all places. _Her_ house.

The journey from Plymouth was not long and he arrived in good time the day following the accident. It was dark as he approached the gates of Kellynch, but he allowed his horse to slow and stop. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to be spiteful. He wanted to triumph over the fact that he’d accomplished all he said he would when she had doubted him — that he was rich while her pompous father had been forced to let his ancestral home. But all he felt at the first sight of her home in eight years was deep sorrow for what might have been. After the hurried trip he knew he ought to go in, to inquire after his sister’s health, to bolster the Admiral. The gates were even left open in anticipation of his arrival, and yet they still formed an invisible barrier he seemed unable to cross. As it turned out, breaching the gate of _her_ house, even in the absence of all the family, terrified him more than breaching an enemy blockade when he was out-maned and outgunned.

When he finally did enter the park it felt sadly anticlimactic, he was met with a darkened drive lined by trees rustling in the evening breeze. Having already fought his battle of will, he was unprepared for the assault on crossing the threshold of the house. Memories crashed in on him in waves and he seemed to remember every welcome he had received there in turn. Anne greeting him with a demure curtsy and a kind inquiry after his brother. Anne greeting him with a grateful smile as she escaped her sister to walk with him. Anne’s eyes twinkling with mischief as she led him to the library. Anne greeting him with an incandescent smile and love shining in her eyes the day after he’d proposed. Sir Walter’s mask of bored indignation as he all but denied his consent. Anne’s sober determination as she fought for their future. Lady Russell’s haughty disdain as Anne stood beside her, the hope fading from her eyes. Anne’s sobbing as she broke their engagement. These memories seemed to huddle about him like specters as he handed his hat, gloves, and greatcoat to the same butler who had witnessed all of these past greetings but gave no indication of recognition now.

His emotions threatened to overcome his senses until he was drawn out of them but a gruff: "Frederick! I’m glad you’ve arrived," from the admiral.

"Admiral," he said as he took long strides toward his brother-in-law, "how is Sophy?"

"She woke up this morning with a deuce of a headache and some sensitivity to light and sound, but nothing you and I haven’t survived after a canon blast to the ship. The doctor says there’s no sign of infection in her leg, and it’s been set properly, although that apothecary doesn’t seem to be worth his weight in powders."

Frederick tried to parse this account as they walked into the drawing room, "She’s seen a doctor and an apothecary?"

"What?" The Admiral looked up in some confusion before his brow cleared and he laughed as they sat. "No, ’doctor’ is just what I’ve been calling the girl who found us, you know how I am with lady’s names... Catherine, Anne, Elizabeth, Mary ... one of the Tudor queens. Saved your sister’s leg, if not her life I’d reckon. Sacrificed strips off her own petticoat to create a tourniquet after the bone broke through the skin. I’ve not known many girls who wouldn’t faint dead away at such a sight, let alone properly treat it. Then she crawled up into a dung cart to insure my spine was safe before she’d let me move. She’s worth ten of that country apothecary though — she had to remind him to clean the wound with alcohol before he set the leg, and she stitched it up herself. Then she gave up her own bedchamber so that Sophy could recover comfortably and has been nursing her ever since."

Frederick’s heart clenched at the description. He remembered Anne’s self-sacrificing nature, the care she took of others, and her prowess as a nurse. He had to remind himself that Anne and her family had left the neighborhood. He had never yet come across another woman like her, but that didn’t make this paragon his Anne. Besides, climbing into a dung cart would be beneath the Elliot pride. "She sounds like quite a woman," Frederick replied numbly.

"Yes. Most ship’s surgeons or field-cutters would have amputated, but not her. She’d be welcome on my ship any day with skill, nerves and instincts like hers. "

Frederick scoffed, I would never willingly admit any ladies on board a ship of mine, excepting for a ball, or a visit, which a few hours might comprehend.

"That’s not very gallant of you my boy," abused the Admiral.

"But, if I know myself," said he, "this is from no want of gallantry towards them. It is rather from feeling how impossible it is, with all one’s efforts, and all one’s sacrifices, to make the accommodations on board such as women ought to have. There can be no want of gallantry, Admiral, in rating the claims of women to every personal comfort high, and this is what I do. I hate to hear of women on board, or to see them on board."

The admiral shook his head at him. "When you’ve got a wife, you will sing a different tune. My Sophy has spent most of her married life on board and has been most content, and I’ve very thankful to have her with me." He paused thoughtfully, "and do you think a woman who would willingly climb into a cart of manure to aid a stranger would have any qualms over the accommodations of a frigate or man-of-war?"

"Perhaps not, but such a woman could hardly be a lady."

The admiral harrumphed at this slight to his new favorite, "daughter of this house she was. Her and her sister now live over at Uppercross. One of them is married to that Musgrove fellow, though my head wasn’t quite recovered well enough from the crash when introductions were made to rightly remember which was which."

Frederick’s heart stopped. _Catherine, Anne, Elizabeth, Mary ..._ Blast if he hadn’t listed all of the Elliot sisters. Never in a million years could he envision Elizabeth Elliot soiling her gown for any reason, much less in order to give aid. Frederick had never met the youngest as she’d been away at school that summer, but he’d always heard her described as flighty, frivolous, and always  fancying herself ill. No, this ’doctor’ had to be Anne. But was it possible she was married? In his mind she was forever frozen at nineteen: beautiful, intelligent, naive, persuadable. He knew it was possible, probable even, that she’d moved on and married, but even the thought of it was painful.

While Frederick was having this moment of self-reflection, the admiral was vocally trying to piece together his doctor’s identity. "I heard only one word in three of that introduction for all of the buzzing in my ears, but the young Musgrove did help her down from the cart and admonish her about her unladylike behavior. It stands to reason that she’s his wife. Well, you’ll see for yourself tomorrow as you can hardly avoid the introduction."

 _Tomorrow._ An odd sensation of excitement mingled with dread settled on him. He would see her again tomorrow. Possibly at her husband’s home. Surrounded by her children. How could he bear to see the future that should have been his acted out with another man? What right had she to be happy when she’d stolen his future happiness from him? How dare she impose herself on him again after he’d finally forgotten her ... At least  he had meant to forget her, and believed it to be done ... And she’d saved his sister’s life. By the admiral’s account she was every bit as selfless and kind and capable and ... perfect as she’d always been. _Tomorrow._

~~~

Within the space of a minute in her conscious mind Sophia Croft had gone from absolute freedom to terror to painful confinement. One minute she was in the gig beside her husband enjoying the wind in her hair, the next she was waking up in a strange bedroom with her leg bound in some positively medieval torture device surrounded by complete strangers. Her temperament, however, had never been to dwell on her misfortunes and she’d quickly resolved herself to her situation. She rather liked her gentle nurse, Anne. She was a sweet girl, no longer in her first flush of youth, but calm, capable, and rational. While other visitors — including her husband — had filtered in and out of her room the previous day as she’d filtered in and out of consciousness, Miss. Anne had been her most constant companion. They had got on so well that by yesterday evening — and her second dose of laudanum — they were referring to each other by their proper names as they whispered silly conversation across their pillows.

This morning Sophy woke early, slowly coming out of the fog of her dreams. It was not yet dawn, she could hear Anne’s measured, easy breaths beside her on the cot, indicating that she was still asleep. Sophy tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but the stints and straps securing her leg made that impossible. She raised her hand to itch her forehead and realized that the bandages on her hand prevented her from doing so. Thwarted in all measures of comfort, she pushed back into her pillow with a sigh and attempted to sleep, but it was no use. She was awake. She peered around the room, chasing any form of entertainment, but there was little of any note. The window was unfortunately positioned at just such a height that she could see the sky, but nothing earth-bound. She strained up onto her elbows to see further, but that pulled at her leg and she cried slightly in the pain.

"Is there anything I might do for you Sophy?" Came Anne’s groggy but solicitous voice.

"I am sorry to have intruded on your sleep Anne, I find myself rather restless this morning."

"Quite understandable. Have you need for the necessary?" As she hadn’t yet risen she hadn’t realized it but now it was quite evident that she did. She merely nodded and blushed slightly. As Anne helped her accomplish mundane and personal tasks of personal hygiene, Sophy inwardly chaffed at being so useless and requiring such aid. She was a capable, battle-hardened woman!

After an hour of painful labor to accomplish what ordinarily would have taken no more than fifteen minutes, Sophy was seated upright in bed with her bandages changed, face washed, teeth powdered, hair brushed and arranged, and a mountain of pillows at her back. She was exhausted. As Anne began bustling around the room to make her own preparations, Sophy was struk anew by this lady’s selflessness. "I must apologize again for taking over your bedchamber. I’m affraid I’m a rather troublesome house guest."

Anne smiled, "perhaps troublesome for a house guest, but you’ve been an ideal patient thus far." She moved to the corner where there was a dressing screan. "Do you mind if I simply get dressed here, that way I do not need to trouble the maid to sit with you while I do so."

"Of course not, so long as I do not trouble you."

Anne laughed from behind the screen. "I must admit it’s been somewhat fun sharing a room with you, quite like sharing the nursery with my sisters when we were little. Before we became fine ladies."

"I envy you your sisters then, I had only brothers who were more apt to bring frogs into the nursery than to whisper secrets," Sophy said drowsily.

"Yes, so I’ve heard," Anne replied and for a moment, Sophy was puzzled by her meaning. Unfortunately, the strains of getting ready for the morning had taken their effect and before she could examine Anne’s source for such information she drifted off to sleep. When she opened her eyes again she found Anne at the door accepting a breakfast tray from a maid.

"Do you feel up to eating?" Anne asked, "I know laudanum sometimes makes me queasy, but it’s best to keep your strength up nonetheless."

"Thank you," Sophy said then looked at the tray Anne set before her with nothing more than a bowl of gruel and some toast. "I suppose if I must," she sighed. In order to avoid sight of Anne’s more appetizing breakfast, she shifted her eyes to the window. The dusty purple sky was beginning to be shot through with tendrils of red, orange, and pink. "It’s a shame I cannot see more of the window," she sighed.

"Perhaps," began Anne as she moved to the vanity and shoved it slightly, then adjusted the tilt of the mirror, "does that help?" Sophy shifted her gaze to the mirror and was gifted with a full view of the rolling fields and trees at sunrise."

"Perfect, thank you." The two ladies sat in silence for some time eating their breakfast and watching the sun rise.

Over the course of the morning they spent much time discussing Sophy’s time at sea. She found Anne to be curiously well-informed on shipboard life. She asked insightful questions and Sophy gave frank answers.

"You seem to know quite a bit about the Navy," Sophy finally stated directly after Anne began another question with the phrase _I’ve heard..._

Anne blushed and averted her eyes. "I ... that is ..." she bit her lips and Sophy suddenly felt she was looking a a much younger girl "... I have read a lot."

"Evidently," Sophy replied sardonically, not believing that the girl had no more personal connection to the Navy than mere books.

"My ..." she cleared her throat "... that is to say all of my sources have been men. It’s been wonderful to hear your experience."

Sophy smiled, "yes, I suppose my life and my marriage have been rather far outside of the common way." She paused, looking intently at her audience and was struck with the desire to startle the girl out of her reserve. "You would make a fine Navy wife, my dear." She was not disappointed.

Anne choked and sputtered out the tea she was drinking. Her face first drained of color, then blushed furiously, and she refused to meet Sophy’s eye. "Was there a young sailor in your past?" Without a word Anne nodded in the affirmative with tears pooling in her eyes. "You loved him?" Anne took a tremulous breath and nodded again. "What happened?" The silence drew on for a long moment as Anne’s eyes bounced across any object in the room other than Sophy.

"Her father objected to the young man." A deep low voice answered from the doorway.

Sophy’s head snapped to her brother and she found that her cry of "Frederick!" was made in chorus with Anne. All of the pieces slid into place at once: his reluctance to visit Kellynch, her knowledge of Sophy’s childhood, her familiarity with the Navy, her reluctance to discuss her young man.

~~~

Frederick knew she’d be here. He knew he’d see her. He also knew, after being introduced to Mrs. Mary Musgrove in the breakfast room that she was still Miss Anne Elliot. Even with all of this knowledge, he was wholly unprepared for the conversation he overheard as he and the admiral made their way to Sophy’s room. At Sophy’s first question regarding Anne’s sailor he had stopped abruptly in the hallway, causing the admiral to bump into his back. He gave the signal for silence, and the admiral obeyed out of years of training and experience. He stepped forward to see into the room just as Anne was nodding that she’d loved him. There sat his Anne, beautiful and blushing and grave in the morning sunlight, her brow contracted and fighting tears. Over him. After eight years. When she was unable to answer Sophy’s last question he felt obliged to respond.

"Frederick!" She jumped out of her chair and stared at him, pale and startled as if she’d seen a ghost. He was still _Frederick!_ Not _Captain_ or _Mr. Wentworth,_ but _Frederick._ He strove for an impassive face as he bowed to her. She curtsied back, but she seemed to finally lose the battle over her tears and said: "if you’ll excuse me," in a quiet hurried voice. Before he could register her words she was past him and rushing down the hall.

"Anne!" He called after her, but she did not heed him.

"Frederick Wentworth!" His sister’s voice had taken the same tone she’d used to scold him when he was young and she’d all but taken over their mother’s role after her death. "Explain yourself immediately!"

"Hello Sophy," he pasted a false smile on his face and turned toward her, "how are you feeling?"

"Confused and entirely dependent on that girl you just sent running out of the room crying. Now explain!"

Frederick sighed and sunk into the chair, covering his face with his hands. It was her chair. In her bedchamber. Where she had been nursing his injured sister. "Do you recall the summer of ’06, when I came to visit Edward? He was curate of the nearby parish of Monkford. I met Anne and she was like a breath of fresh sea air. I had never — nor have I since — encountered such perfect excellence of the mind or the perfect unrivalled hold it possessed over my own. I fell in love with her almost instantly, and she with me. I proposed and was elated when she accepted me. Her father ... well, you’ve met Sir Walter. He did not care for his daughter to marry a man of no consequence — little though he cared to provide her with any other luxuries or opportunities — but she resisted his officiousness and stood by me." He paused for a moment, drawing courage to recount the next fatal blow. He felt Sophy’s hand on his arm. "Her godmother, Lady Russell, convinced her against me in the end. She broke off our engagement and we’ve not seen each other in over eight years." It was more than he’d ever spoken of the subject to anyone, and Frederick felt drained from the effort.

"Oh, Frederick," Sophy’s hand tightened on his arm, "you need to go after her."

His head snapped up and some of the indignation and resentment of the last eight years bubbled to the surface. " _She_ broke my heart. She cast me aside. Why must I go after her?"

"Because she saved my life. Because you’ve had chances over the past eight years to speak to her and have not." Frederick began to object to this point, but Sophy raised her hand to silence him. "We both know she could not contact you no matter how much she may wish to, any reconciliation would have to be initiated by you." Frederick allowed this logic to sink in and he hung his head.

"Most importantly, you should go after her because I’ve just spent the last eight and fourty hours with her and I know that she loves you still."

His head again snapped up to meet his sister’s gaze. "How?"

"Looking back, nearly every conversation we’ve had had veiled references to you had I known to search them out. She’s asked me about my childhood and my family. She’s researched the Navy. She’s peppered me with questions about being a woman living onboard ship, about being married to a captain — she said captain, not admiral. And because that brave, intelligent capable woman would not have run out of the room crying were she not in love with you."

"Not to mention that she’s got a copy of the Navy list with what looks like every newspaper mention of you for the last eight years tucked in to the leaves," the admiral added from the corner near a small bookshelf. He handed Frederick the small book, bloated from its bindings with the added clippings. Frederick reverently turned the pages and flipped through the articles, some marred by tear stains.

As he desperately tried to wrap his head around the fact that Anne still loved him — had always loved him, even as she ended their engagement — Sophy quietly asked: "The only real question left is do you love her?"

He’d spent eight years telling himself he was indiferent, that he’d forgotten her, that she’d used him ill, but in that moment he knew the answer with certain clarity. "Yes," he breathed. "I’ve never stopped loving her."

"Then why are you still here?" The admiral asked in a tone that was habitually used to carry commands over howling gales.

Still grasping the book, Frederick bolted out of the chair and hurried after Anne. When he passed the morning room, he stopped and urgently asked: "Anne?" Her sister gaped, her brother-in-law blustered, but a remarkable stout, forward child, of two years old stood and pointed out toward the gardens. He nodded his thanks and headed out the double doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Notes**
> 
>  
> 
> I am not fluent in Regency era medical procedures and I know that some of this seems anachronistic, but I wanted to write a scenario that was fairly plausible and showed Anne’s capability, knowledge, and selflessness. I essentially wanted her to be well read and knowledgeable enough of medicine that she would both impress the admiral and Frederick _and_ not do anything horrible to Sophy. Unfortunately, medical knowledge and wound care of the time were batshit crazy. Broken bones could heal, but since Sophy’s bone broke through the skin and left a gaping wound, it would have been more difficult to deal with.
> 
> It would have been standard practice to probe a wound then add an irritant (that would make it worse) because it looked like it was doing ... something (?), and they thought puss was a good sign (AAAAHHH!). Then, when the leg inevitably went gangrene they would amputate. Sometimes they didn’t even wait for the gangrene, they would just preemptively amputate.
> 
> Also, germ theory had existed since _1546,_ but doctors and surgeons still thought it was a load of bunk in the early nineteenth century, so they didn’t bother with silly details like washing their hands or cleaning tools. Nurses and midwives had a much better track record for at least washing and cleaning wounds than doctors and surgeons, so I’m giving Anne that benefit of the doubt — but maybe she’s just fastidious.
> 
> However, tourniquets, pouring alcohol on wounds, using stitches to stop bleeding, and checking the wound for heat, redness, and inflammation as signs of infection were known techniques (and actually wouldn’t do any harm to the patient). If Anne had read Galen and Hippocrates (because for real, ancient Greek medical practices were still in use) as well as Moyle, she could have come up with this treatment plan.
> 
>  
> 
> **Bibliography:**
> 
>  
> 
> Fitzharris, Lindsey. _The Butchering Art : Joseph Lister’s Quest to Transform the Grisly World of Victorian Medicine._ New York :Scientific American/Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2017.
> 
> Moyle, John. _Abstractum Chirurgiae Marinae., or, An Abstract of Sea Chirurgery: Designed for the Use of Such Chirurgeons Who Desire to Serve at Sea, Yet Are Unacquainted with Sea Practice : in Order to Their Restoring to Health of Sick or Wounded Sea-Men; but May All Fitly Serve for Most Chirurgeons. In Three Compendious Books. The First Containeth Certain Directions Necessary to Be Observed by the Sea-Chirurgeon in His Fitting out. The Second Teacheth How He Should Perform His Chirurgical Duty Being at Sea, Both in an Ingagement and at Other Times. The Third Instructeth How He Must Execute the Phisical Office Imposed on Him._ London: Printed by J. Richardson for Tho. Passinger, 1686.
> 
> John XXI, Pope. _The Treasurie of Healthe : Conteynyng Many Profitable Medycines, Gathered out of Hypocrates, Galen and Auycen._ Imprynted at London in Fletestreate at the sygne of the Rosegarland :by Wyllyam Coplande., 1550.
> 
> I’d also strongly recommend the podcast Sawbones if you’re not missish or squeamish and enjoy learning about medical history.


	3. Confrontation

Anne had never been as bereft of composure as she was when she looked up to find Frederick Wentworth standing in that doorway. She had spent the past two days caring for his sister while trying to ignore the fact that she was _his_ sister. It was obvious from the moment Sophy woke up and was introduced to her that Frederick had not told her of their relationship. Even if it had escaped her mind in the trauma of the moment, she would likely have recalled after spending the past week at Kellynch and the past day in Anne’s company if her brother had ever told her of his relationship with an Anne Elliot. So she had tried to avoid the topic of Frederick as best she could, though he was constantly present in her mind.

Sophy was delightful. She could speak with her far more freely than with either of her sisters. She was witty and sophisticated, and had lived exactly the life Anne had dreamed of for herself. But on Anne’s side at least, this instant friendship was tainted by guilt. She was holding back vital information about one of Sophy’s closest relatives because she assumed that’s how Frederick wanted it. But then Sophy had directly asked about the sailor in her past and Anne panicked. She found she could not directly lie to her new friend, nor could she will herself to speak but her reactions gave her away all the same. And after so many years of grasping at any second hand information about him she could find, of desperately wishing to see his face, of loving him from afar, he walks in to her life just as she’s been reduced to that quivering mess of anxiety and tears.

After casually announcing that her father had disdained him, he merely bowed to her with that inscrutable face while she was certain she wore her emotions for all to see. She could not help but feel that he had too much self-possession, and she too little. And so she did the only thing she could in such a situation. She ran. Like a silly heroin in one of those Minerva Press novels Mary insisted she read to her.

Now that she was safely ensconced in the garden, hedged in by some rather tall — though sparse — plants, she finally felt at liberty to sort out her feelings. Frederick was here. Her Frederick. The man she’d loved for her whole adult life. She had seen him. They had met. They had been once more in the same room. She could not credit herself with any grace or moderation in their first meeting, but surely the worst was over.

She had just begun to reason with herself, and to try to be feeling less when she spied him exit the house in a great hurry. He strode to the garden with great purpose and appeared to be searching for something. Fearing discovery, and having this time some forewarning of his arrival, she decided it was best to approach and greet him as a rational adult.

With that end in sight, she stepped out and called: "Captain Wentworth," in as neutral a tone as she was capable.

He turned toward her and a frown creased his brow. "Not five minutes ago I was _Frederick,_ have we diverted back to formalities so soon?"

Anne blushed. "I apologize for the breech in etiquette, sir. You caught me off my guard."

The crease in his brow deepened, "and now I am _sir._ Anne, at one time  there could have been no two hearts so open, no tastes so similar, no feelings so in unison, no countenances so beloved. Must we now act as strangers?"

His words tugged at the very core of her, but he could not mean to pick up the threads of their former intimacy so easily. Not after walking away from her pleas to stay and hear her concerns. Not after eight years with no communication. "I thought that was your wish, sir," she said. She was looking at a tree over his left shoulder because she knew she would loose all rational thought if she looked into his eyes. "I find that your sister was entirely unaware of any previous connection between us and so I assumed that you did not wish it generally known."

"If I were to judge by Mrs. Mary Musgrove’s indifferent reception of myself, I could say much the same of you. But I have evidence here that suggests otherwise," he said, holding up ... _Dear God! Is that my copy of the Navy List?!_

Anne had the grace to blush at this. It was true that she hadn’t told Mary of her heartbreak, and yet she had essentially stalked him through the papers over the years. "She was away at school ..."

"And Sophy was in the West Indies. I found ..." He paused and cleared his throat as if choked by emotion "... I found it was too painful to relate the details to her. In fact, I’ve not spoken of our engagement to a soul until Sophy demanded an explanation after your swift departure."

Anne tried to stifle the kick her heart gave at the term _our engagment_ spoken so casually. "Nor I," she said softly, "I knew I would find no solace or sympathy in those who already knew and it seemed futile to inform anyone after it all crumbled."

"Just so." Frederick said with a pained look on his face.

He appeared to be in earnest, but she knew his feelings could not be as steadfast as hers. "Eight years, Frederick. Had you wished for any reconciliation you could have written."

"Had I wished ..." Frederick repeated with a derisive laugh. "I believe I made _my_ wishes clear, you were the one to cry off." His tone softened as he added, "how could I come back here and offer my heart up again when you’d already broken it?"

Anne felt the tears prickle at her eyes again. She said quietly "I never intended to break your heart. I intended to ask for prudence. I wished to wait until you could afford to maintain a wife. I wished to prove my father and Lady Russell wrong by being practical and proving our steadfastness. I had a whole speech prepared, but you walked out of my life after the first sentence and never gave me a chance. That was all it took to extinguish your love for me. I loved you so much and then you were simply gone and I was powerless to follow. Yours was not the only heart broken." She closed her eyes against the pain and loneliness of their eight year separation. A feather-light caress across her cheek forced them open again and she realized that they were full of tears.

"Anne, dearest, you pierce my soul!" His voice broke with emotion and she noticed the glint of tears in his eyes as well. "I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. Please tell me you will be my wife."

Anne felt her heart full to bursting as she searched his eyes. A practical voice in her head — that sounded suspiciously like Lady Russell — asked if she could trust his constancy after such an interval. But she had listened to that voice in the past and it had only caused grief and heartache. She loved this man more than anything in the world and she would not be parted from him again. "Torment though they’ve been, those precious feelings have never left me. I love you Frederick, and I’ve longed for nothing more these eight years than to be your wife."

His response was immediate and ecstatic, he swept her into his arms and kissed her with abandon. She had treasured the memory of his kisses, sweet and soft and tender as they had been, they were the kisses of young love. This kiss was more desperate, bred of separation and war, anxiety and grief, filled with eight years of regret and longing and love. Anne was ready to spend the next eight years here in this garden in his embrace for all of the relief and comfort and elation it gave her. Unfortunately, after mere minutes had elapsed, they were startled apart by Charles’s shocked cry of "Anne!"

As they drew apart, Frederick seemed to take instant note of Charles’s rifle clutched in his right hand and drew Anne behind him. Anne, fully aware that the rifle was nearly an extension of Charles’s arm in hunting season knew, he meant no malice but gloried in Frederick’s instinct to protect her nonetheless. Unable to repress her smile, she stepped beside Frederick and slipped her arm through his. "Charles, will you be the first to congratulate us?"

"Congratulate you," Charles said with a furrowed brow, "but the man’s only arrived in the county last night ..." he broke off as a realization seemed to strike "... wait, is this...?"


	4. (Re)solutions

Frederick was still wary of the gun in the man’s hand — he was her brother-in-law, and he had just found them in a most scandalous embrace — but he could not account for the sudden recognition in Musgrove’s eyes.

Anne nodded and said, "Captain Wentworth and I were well acquainted when he visited the county in the year six. Upon re-acquaintance, we’ve discovered that the thought of another eight years apart is unsupportable so we’re to be married as soon as possible."

"Well then," Musgrove responded in a cheery voice tinged, perhaps, with a hint of regret, "I wish you joy. I think I’d rather be away from the house for Mary’s raptures on the subject so I’m off shooting." He gave Anne an affectionate squeeze of the hand and turned to Frederick. "Wentworth, would you walk with me for a moment?"

Frederick nodded numbly and walked a ways with Anne’s nearest male relative in the vicinity. When they’d passed just out of Anne’s range of hearing, Charles’s cheery voice dropped into a low, foreboding tone. "I cannot even begin to fathom what would cause a man fortunate enough to have won her heart to abandon a woman such as Anne Elliot, but see that you do not do so again. I can assure you that her attachment to you was far more solid than you deserve."

As Anne had recently assured him that she had not spoken of their attachment to anyone, Frederick was taken aback by this warning — for warning it certainly was. But Frederick reckoned he owed the man some assurance as her brother-in-law. "I promise you, Musgrove, a man does not recover from such a devotion of the heart to such a woman. He ought not; he does not. Had I believed it in my power to return and claim her hand sooner I would have."

"Good. I’ve yet to see for myself what sort of man you are, but we may yet hope you shall prove yourself worthy of her." With that, Musgrove shook his hand and gave him a merry smile before continuing on his way.

He walked back to Anne mulling over the odd conversation. "Was it so very bad as your scowl implies?" She asked, reaching out her hand to him.

"He seemed to _know_ ... about our past."

"Well, I’ve not spoken directly of our past to anyone, but there are certain times when a lady finds it necessary to inform a gentleman that her heart has been irrevocably given to another."

Frederick stopped in his tracks and tightened his grip on her hand. "He proposed to you?"

"Yes. But as I’ve said. My heart was too full of you to seriously consider his proposal. Fortunately for him, Mary returned from school shortly thereafter and was far more amenable to his suit."

"How any man of sense could turn his sights from you to your sister is beyond me." Frederick said, shaking his head.

"Well, I’ve not much to say on the topic of Charles’s sense, though he is an amiable fellow."

~~~

Admiral Croft was a man of action, far more inclined to be out of doors than in and restless when forced to stillness. He therefore found his present situation insupportable. The day had started out far more interesting than he’d anticipated, what with the drama of a romance acted out by the doctor and Frederick. After the boy had finally run after her, the admiral was at leisure for a time to sit and talk to his wife. He loved her more than many would consider an old salt capable of, and he was truly solicitous of her health and comfort. Particularly as he had been driving the gig and had somehow walked away with minimal injuries — the doctor speculated that it was actually the dung itself that had cushioned his fall and prevented further injury — and his dear wife was now in such a state. She’d damn near died from his negligence and he would sit by her bedside the rest of his days if that’s what it took to repent.

His guilt over Sophy’s injuries made it bristle all the more when that flighty sister of the doctor had _graciously_ entered Sophy’s room, forcing the admiral out of the only chair beside her bed. The _delicate_ lady then proceeded to condole with Sophy by giving her a full account of her own current indispositions — which seemed to boil down to nerves and a feeling of neglect and jealousy that another with more pressing injuries had taken over her home.

After what felt like an eternity of her drivel, three more of these Musgrove ladies called to visit and condole with the invalid, a mother and two daughters. The mother exhibited much more real concern and sympathy for his wife’s condition, but her care seemed to manifest itself in constant fussing with her pillows and coverlet and presenting far more cake than is good for anybody, particularly an invalid.

The daughters were young and lively and pretty and by these graces alone they would have endeared themselves to the admiral and his wife. They secured the affection of the Crofts, however, by peppering them with questions about the Navy as to the manner of living on board, daily regulations, food, hours, etc. While their questions revealed a general ignorance to the realities of sea, they were charmingly asked and answered with some pleasant ridicule.

From this lively inquisition, one of the girls turned the subject to what must have been their object all along, "do you not have a brother, Mrs. Croft?"

"A dashing young Captain who will be joining us soon?" The other added, actually bouncing on the balls of her feet. The admiral stifled a laugh at their determination. They’d yet to clap eyes on Frederick, but they’d already painted him as a romantic figure.

"Why yes, I do," Sophy answered with a twinkle in her eye, her thoughts no doubt returning to the extraordinary revelations of the morning. "He arrived last night and is at present reacquainting himself with Miss. Anne."

"Reacquainting!" Muttered the flighty sister, "a great brute if you ask me. First Anne rushed past the morning room without so much as popping her head in to say good morning or inquire after my health, then several minutes later he comes barreling down the hall demanding to know her presence! I was struck quite dumb by his boorish behavior, but then my son _would_ go and point out Anne’s location."

"I do apologize for the abruptness of my question Mrs. Musgrove," Frederick said from the doorway and the admiral watched the two frivolous daughters preen toward him like flowers to the sun.

"Oh dear," the ever sensible doctor said as she entered on Frederick’s arm, "I’m afraid this number of people may be overwhelming for Mrs. Croft. We should move to the drawing room and visit her in smaller groups."

"Not so fast!" Sophy said with a smile. "You cannot leave me in such suspense!"

The doctor had won a space in his heart from the first for her competence, her care, her decisive actions, but it wasn’t until she stood glowing and lovely in sensibility and happiness in response to Sophy’s demand that the admiral saw how truly pretty she was. "Yes doctor, what’s the prognosis?" He added.

She blushed becomingly and replied in a breathy voice with her eyes turned to Frederick, "A long and happy life."

"Of course!" The flighty sister interjected, "there has been little fear for her survival since she awoke yesterday morning. She is not of a weak constitution, such as I have."

"Oh, Anne, Frederick, I am so delighted! But I think you must be more explicit for the rest of the company," Sophy replied.

Frederick ducked his head, unsure of the reception of their news, but then he looked at the doctor and the words began flowing. He again explained their exultant and tumultuous past, their separation, the feelings that overtook them both when they were reunited, and finally of their renewed engagement. The Miss Musgroves at first appeared a bit downhearted that the handsome Captain was no longer an object to them, but were soon swept up in the romance of the tale. Their mother loudly decried the evil of separations and her joy at their finding each other again. The flighty sister, however, still put out by her ill-usage of the morning, dared to venture that Sir Walter and Lady Russell may yet disapprove.

~~~

Anne bristled at Mary’s comment all the more because it may be true. Sir Walter had not approved of Frederick in the past, and it’s possible that his fortune of five-and-twenty thousand pounds and his sterling career prospects would still fail to please her father. She looked again at Frederick to find that he was anxiously looking down at her. He was afraid. He doubted her. And after she had once bent to such arguments, it was no wonder.

Turning resolutely to Mary, she responded. "I once was convinced to yield my happiness to the opinions of others, and for that I have suffered eight years of disappointment and distress. But now I am of age, and with the advantage of maturity of mind, consciousness of right, and one independent fortune between us, nothing can prevent us from following our love to its natural conclusion." Anne felt Frederick’s hand tighten around hers in possessive gratitude and knew that all would be well. This time they would bear down every opposition together.

Anne stood graciously accepting congratulations and bearing the inquisitive questions from her family and friends for several minutes before she noticed Sophy cringe and lay her head back on her pillows. Recalled to her duty as a nurse, she renewed her command that the sick-room be vacated. After some tutting over Sophy’s coloring, fretting over her comfort, and fluttering skirts, the Musgroves had quitted the room, leaving Anne and Sophy with the Admiral and Frederick.

"I’m afraid you gentlemen ought to go down for the moment as well."

"Surely I may remain with my wife," replied the admiral, "I am sure you’re absence in the drawing room will be of more note than my own. Besides, here is excellent reading material should she need her rest, _An Abstract of Sea Chirurgery: Designed for the Use of Such Chirurgeons who Desire to Serve at Sea, Yet are Unacquainted with Sea Practice._ One may be excused for thinking you longed to be at sea," The admiral said with a wink, Frederick beamed, and Anne felt herself blush to the roots of her hair.

"Yes ... Well ..." she floundered for a moment "... Be that as it may, I should like a few moments to check on my patient, you may wait in the hall should you wish."

"Far be it from me to disobey the Doctor’s orders," The admiral said with a wink as he and Frederick exited the room.

As she closed the door behind them, Anne took a moments pause to breathe. "Poor dear, I believe that was more notice than you’ve been accustomed to."

Anne turned and smiled contritely at her friend, "Perhaps. But I did shoo them away on your account, you need your rest."

"Yes, and I thank you. Your family is charming, but perhaps a bit much at the moment."

Anne nodded her agreement and moved to the bedside. She began slowly unwrapping the dressings of her leg wound to check for any redness, swelling, or heat that would be signs of infection. She was delighted to see none, and the stitching seemed to have stopped the bleeding. She next checked the wounds on Sophy’s hands and face, and finding them improved and no longer bleeding, asked if Sophy would prefer to leave the bandages off for the moment, a proposition which her patient eagerly agreed to. She helped Sophy to the necessary again before retrieving the admiral.

She was pleasantly surprised to find Frederick lingering in the hallway with the admiral, waiting to escort her to the drawing room. "Sea surgery, my dear?" He asked with a twinkle in his eye once the admiral had rejoined his wife.

Anne again blushed. "I ordered it the day after you proposed. I thought if I was to join you on board I might as well make myself useful."

He looked down contemplatively, "I could never have brought you aboard the Asp, she was not fit to be employed, and I would not have risked your life."

Anne had fairly well worked this out from the account she’d read of the ship, but it pained her to hear confirmation anyway. "And yet you sailed on her."

"At that time ... I never thought ... Let’s just say that at that point I felt I may just as well go to the bottom as not. She would either make my career or ..." he paused in painful recollection.

Her heart broke at the extent she’d hurt him. She cupped his face in her hands and sighed his name in contrition. He chaffed his hands up and down her back and added in a cheerier note, "luckily she was the making of my career, and we returned to dock just before she fell to pieces."

They stood there for some moments, soaking in each other’s presence. At length he added, "Now that I’m thinking over the past, a question has suggested itself. You bought that book to prepare you for your role as a captain’s wife and you kept it, read it even after I had left?"

"Given recent events, I’d say it was still useful even on land," Anne said playfully, then sobered and added, "I always held out a hope that you’d return. Although as the years passed that hope had dwindled down to naught but a fragile flicker."

"Tell me if, when I returned to England in the year eight, with a few thousand pounds, and was posted into the Laconia, if I had then written to you, would you have answered my letter? Would you, in short, have renewed the engagement then?"

"Would I!" was all her answer; but the accent was decisive enough.

"Good God!" he cried, "you would! It is not that I did not think of it, or desire it, as what could alone crown all my other success; but I was proud, too proud to ask again. I did not understand you. I shut my eyes, and would not understand you, or do you justice. This is a recollection which ought to make me forgive every one sooner than myself. Six years of separation and suffering might have been spared. It is a sort of pain, too, which is new to me. I have been used to the gratification of believing myself to earn every blessing that I enjoyed. I have valued myself on honourable toils and just rewards. Like other great men under reverses," he added, with a smile. "I must endeavour to subdue my mind to my fortune. I must learn to brook being happier than I deserve."

~~~

Sophy gradually made her recovery and Anne, dedicated to her patient, could not be convinced to leave off her care to another — even for the purpose of a trip to Bath to receive her father’s consent. Frederick, anticipating little gratification in a visit in person, applied to Sir Walter via post. They might in fact, have borne down a great deal more than they met with, for there was little to distress them beyond the want of graciousness and warmth. Sir Walter made no objection, and Elizabeth did nothing worse than write a cold and unconcerned note of congratulations at the end of a letter requesting Anne’s assistance in retrieving some trifles she required from Kellynch.

By November, Sophy’s leg was finally considered stable enough to consider removing back to Kellynch. The morning after the grand ordeal of moving the invalid, Frederick received news that his friend, Captain Harville, had settled his family and their friend Captain Benwick not twenty miles away at Lyme. As Anne was newly freed of her nursing responsibilities and Frederick was eager to see his friends again — one having suffered a lingering wound to the leg in the war and the other a lingering wound to the soul when his fiancee died of a fever — a trip to Lyme was swiftly planned. For propriety, they began by inviting Mary and Charles, then Louisa and Henrietta latched on to the idea and propelled it forward.

The trip was brief and pleasant. In spite of the chill of November, they were able to walk along the cob and breathe the sea air. Frederick found infinite satisfaction in introducing Anne to his brother officers as his future wife, and though surprised, they were happy to claim her as a dear old acquaintance.

Louisa, who had spent the last weeks embellishing Anne and Frederick’s love story into one of the greatest romances of all time, found a reluctant recipient of all of her newfound admiration of the Navy in Captain Benwick. Since the death of his dear Fanny, he had isolated himself in his own mind — nourished in its agony by liberal doses of melancholy poetry. He was startled out of this state by the persistent and lively attentions of a young and beautiful girl. He continued to mourn his loss, but as he watched Frederick’s happy interactions with his fiancee, and Harville’s domestic serenity with his wife, his thoughts slowly shifted from what could have been to what could be. He was not yet ready to cast off his black, but for the first time he could imagine doing so in the future.

~~~

Lady Russell returned to the neighborhood in full expectation of the horrors predicted in the summer. She prepared herself for the vulgar manners and shocking injustice of an admiral and his wife having usurped her dearly departed friend’s family in their ancestral home. She was prepared to loathe them in sympathy for Anne’s offended feelings.

What she found was a radiant Anne who had somehow recovered the bloom of her youth. She sat in stunned disapproval as Anne informed her of the accident and her timely — though rather unladylike — intervention. She was mortified to find that not only had Captain Wentworth returned, but his feelings were unchanged over the span of eight years and they were positively engaged. Openly, publicly engaged, with the full acknowledgment of her father.

She sat through this history in horrified silence and desperately attempted to sort the matter in her own head before speaking. She had her reservations, she always had, but what was to be done with everything so public? If Anne were to call off now it would ruin whatever prospects she had left for a suitable match. Her prospects had already been dim for years as she’d languished on the shelf. Her father and sister were too self-interested to do anything to promote Anne’s interests, and Anne had stubbornly shunned any attempts at matchmaking.

Seeing Anne’s expression grow increasingly anxious as the minutes ticked past in silence, Lady Russell determined to make her case. "He left you. Eight years with no contact, and now he’s back and you believe in his constancy?"

Anne’s chin took on a stubborn tilt more at home on Elizabeth’s countenance than her docile Anne’s. "Yes. He left me eight years ago because you convinced me to release him from our engagement. He did not contact me because I broke his heart."

"Men will say anything to get their way," she parried back.

"Apparently so will ladies," Anne countered with a disappointed look — again in an uncharacteristically bold fashion.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Only that if you truly had my best interests at heart you would listen to what I say and trust my judgment. You cautioned me to be prudent all those years ago and I was. Now Frederick has his fortune, he’s proven successful in his career. The war is over. Our love has survived on both sides through pain and heartache and separation. This is not a childish whim. In the entire span of our acquaintance you’ve observed Frederick and I in company for a total of fifteen minutes. If that was all the time it took you to condemn our relationship, your judgment must be based on prejudice rather than observation."

Lady Russell was taken aback by Anne’s vehemence. "I ..." she found she was unable to defend herself against this critical judgment. True, Captain Wentworth’s status and fortune had informed her decisions against him, but she was being prudent, not prejudiced.

"I have been thinking over the past, and trying impartially to judge of the right and wrong, I mean with regard to myself; and I must believe that I was right, much as I suffered from it, that I was perfectly right in being guided by you. You stood in the place of a parent." Lady Russell reached out to grab Anne’s hand, but was stopped by her icy tone as she continued. "Do not mistake me, however. I am not saying that you did not err in your advice. It was, perhaps, one of those cases in which advice is good or bad only as the event decides; and for myself, I certainly never should, in any circumstance of tolerable similarity, give such advice. But I mean, that I was right in submitting to you, and that if I had done otherwise, I should have suffered more in continuing the engagement than I did even in giving it up, because I should have suffered in my conscience. I have now, as far as such a sentiment is allowable in human nature, nothing to reproach myself with; and if I mistake not, a strong sense of duty is no bad part of a woman’s portion."

"I am glad that you do my advice that justice at least," Lady Russell said quietly.

"I do your former advice that justice. However, I am no longer a child. I am an adult with a keen intellect and experience in the world. I have met other men. I have endured your season in Bath. I have rejected one _suitable_ offer. But no other man has touched my soul the way that Frederick has. I am seven and twenty. I am not likely to receive any other offers, but if I should, I would be no more persuaded to marry against my heart than I was in the past. So I ask you now to reconsider what is in my best interests."

Lady Russsell knew she was in a corner. She could either hold her peace and hope for Anne’s happiness or persist and loose her friendship with Anne foreved. She sighed and conceded. "You best tell me more about your Frederick then."

~~~

Anne and Frederick had early decided not to rush their wedding, despite their eagerness. What might not eight years do? Events of every description, changes, alienations, removals–all, all must be comprised in it! It included nearly a third part of her own life. And so they decide on mutual agreement to postpone the wedding until they’d had time to reacquaint themselves. Shortly after this meeting with Lady Russell, they decided that two months was a sufficient wait as neither had ambitions for a grand wedding. So they’d sent out a missive to Sir Walter and Elizabeth concerning possible dates.

They found upon the reply, however, that the degradation of returning to Kellynch while the hall was yet leased and Sir. Walter in disgrace was too much for the baronet to bear. Uppercross, likewise was unacceptable as it was too near their estranged ancestral home. Sir Walter proposed a removal of all to Bath as the wedding could be done in society style without the condemnation of a small town.

Frederick, recalling Anne’s vehement dislike of Bath and of _society,_ found this idea abhorrent. They had both had their fill of Sir Walter’s dictates and refused to bend once again to his will. Rather than sending the immediate acceptance to his plan that Sir Walter had undoubtedly expected, Frederick immediately sent off a letter to his brother Edward in Shropshire requesting the banns to be read there and they set an early date for their wedding in his brother’s parish. They therefore averted the social disaster of flouting Sir Walter’s insolvency while maintaining their own independence.

If the local society of the parish found it odd that Sir Walter and his eldest daughter were absent from his middle daughter’s wedding, they were too polite to mention it in company. The ceremony was small. Sophy and the admiral came — the latter’s leg had mostly healed and she was able to travel quite well with the occasional use of a cane for support — as had Mary and Charles, accompanied by the Miss Musgroves. Captain Harville found a trip of that length too difficult a strain on his leg and pocketbook, but Captain Benwick made the journey. Lady Russell claimed the honor of transporting the bride thither in her own carriage while the bridegroom rode beside.

In the absence of her father and elder sister, Anne found the simple wedding perfectly suited to her tastes. Charles escorted her down the aisle, Mary, Louisa, and Henrietta all insisted on standing as bridesmaids, leaving the bride’s side of the church woefully imbalanced with only poor Charles alone in the aisle. Captain Benwick stood up for Frederick, noting how lovely Miss Louisa Musgrove looked in her wedding finery. The Rev. Edward Wentworth and his wife hosted a modest wedding breakfast at the parsonage following the ceremony.

Oddly enough, given Anne and Frederick’s pointed refusal to be married in Bath, the majority of their guests chose to stop in Bath on their journey home. Lady Russell traveled there for her annual visit to Bath, the Crofts took a sojourn there to aid the admiral’s gout, and Anne insisted that at this juncture of her recovery frequent walks would do Mrs. Croft good as well. The Musgroves decided to stop there for a week on their return journey, and Captain Benwick changed his itinerary at the last minute when he heard of Miss Louisa’s plans.

Captain and Mrs. Wentworth wished for nothing more than solitude to enjoy each other and make up for eight years of distance. They therefore let a cottage just outside of Cheltenham in the Cotswolds for a week for their honeymoon. With the exception of the coachman and tiger — who had accommodations in the stable — and a local woman who came daily to prepare meals and serve as a maid, they were free to revel in exquisite seclusion.


	5. Contentment

The carriage ride was blissful. Filled with lively remembrances, hopeful wishes for the future, and whispered endearments. They were constantly touching each other, holding hands, grazing knees, his arm around her shoulder while her head rested in the crux. Oh, there were kisses too, tender kisses to the top of a head, a hand pressed fervently to a mouth, chaste pecks to punctuate a compliment, scorching kisses full of promise and heat — nothing too scandalous mind, there was a coachman before them and a tiger behind and the walls of the carriage were not terribly thick.

Even in the carefree summer of ’06, when they were young and impulsive and in love, they had almost never been alone, truly alone. They had enjoyed walks through the gardens in full view of the house, afternoons in the library with the door open and a maid quietly darning in the corner, dinners in company, even an assembly ball where they’d danced a scandalous _three dances._ True, there had been stolen moments. Points in the garden path that were obscured by trees, ’accidental’ meetings in dark corridors while she was headed to the retiring room and he to the card room, hands clasped under the dinner table, that sort of thing. But those were always brief, stolen, illicit, tinged with both the fear and excitement of discovery.

But that carriage ride form Shropshire to the Cotswolds was their first glorious glimpse at the freedoms of married life and they reveled in it. They could speak as openly and brazenly as they wished, on any topic — never forced to turn the conversation to a larger audience. They need not heed the whims or desires of their families. There were no invalids to care for, no rules of etiquette to be followed, no one to please but themselves. And they did please each other greatly. 

They arrived to the cottage to a light supper and fires already laid by the maid, who had promptly taken herself off to her own home after insuring that their needs were met for the evening. The day had seen them joined in matrimony and had slowly progressed in the breaking down of barriers. It took but minutes after the door closed on the maid’s departure for the remainder to crumble. Clothes and inhibitions were rapidly shed. Hands lingered where previously they’d skimmed. Kisses grew bolder, longer, strayed farther afield. Hearts and souls and bodies were joined as one. After years of conforming to social niceties and strictures and deprivations, there in that cottage they were finally free to be simply Anne and Frederick. 


	6. Epilogue

After their honeymoon, Frederick and Anne returned to Kellynch — presently empty as the admiral and Sophy had elected to stay on in Bath for a spell. They were shortly joined by Benwick, whose fog of grief was being rapidly penetrated by the persistent attachment and lively manners of Miss Louisa Musgrove. They made a merry party. As in the fall, the Kellynch and Uppercross parties were much in each other’s company — although further constrained by the winter weather.

An aggressive amount of flirting by Miss Louisa on the occasion of St. Valentine’s day led Benwick — almost without realizing what he was about — to offer for her in response. The determined young lady unreservedly consented. Though Benwick had somewhat anticipated his own timetable in proposing at such an early date, he found himself rather contented with the result and even allowed himself to be happy for the first time since reaching shore.

The tranquility of their winter idyll, however, could not last for long. When Napoleon escaped from his confinement on Elba, both of the dashing young captains were called back into active duty. Benwick, seized by the unshakable fear of becoming essentially twice a widower before even officially taking a wife if he left yet another pretty young fiancee ashore, pressed for a hasty marriage. The Musgroves, indulgent to a fault, could not long withstand Louisa’s tears and agreed to a special license.

It was, therefore, with solemn gravity on Anne’s part and an adventurous excitement on Louisa’s that the two brides boarded their husbands’ ships. Tensions were high among the sailors, weary to be recalled to a war they’d considered over as they sailed toward Rochefort. Anne studied her Abstract of Sea Surgery lest her services be required.

For all of their preparations and anxieties, however, Anne and Louisa’s first cruise with the Royal Navy was overall uneventful. They formed part of a blockade which was instrumental in preventing Napoleon’s escape to America by their mere presence, but saw little action.

Anne flourished at sea. Louisa, however, found herself overcome with a potent combination of seasickness and homesickness that drained the lively glint from her eyes. Life at sea was neither as romantic nor as exciting as she’d expected and she longed for female companionship. Benwick purchased a home happily situated between Uppercross and Winthrop so she may remain near her sister and parents. He found the arrangement to be both a blessing and a curse. While she’d been aboard, he’d found himself distracted with worry at putting her in such danger and worried about her comforts and happiness. In spite of Fanny’s unfortunate demise, he knew that she was safer on shore than at sea. His departures were always torture, but that made their reunions all the sweeter. Their children were raised alongside their cousins and his family was happy and well surrounded by loving family.

The Wentworths were never blessed with children, though even this turned into a blessing in itself. They were never forced to bear the long and fretful separations common to naval marriages as Anne was free to join her husband on his tours of duty. Over the course of their marriage the two happily shared many an adventure. Anne always struck up a cordial relationship with many of the men on their crews — though there were always those stubborn old salts who considered any woman aboard as bad luck.

The admiral’s nickname for her took among the men and over her illustrious career as a captain’s wife, many spirited debates occurred between the ’doctor’ and the ship’s surgeons over methods of treatment and care. Those beleaguered men of medicine, however, came to have a grudging respect for the lady’s opinions. In the end they always valued her assistance when their sick bay was in need of capable hands and the wounded often preferred the tender ministrations of the solicitous lady to the heavy hands of the surgeons.

Frederick found the contentment he had only dreamed of during those long lonely years of separation. Her skills and affability often proved to be a boon to his command and a solace to his cares. The life of a captain was often isolated, surrounded by men but unable to socialize on their level while maintaining his air command. In Anne he found his equal, his partner and his soulmate. They replaced their garden walks with strolls along the deck, hand in hand, soaking in each other’s warmth with the moonlight. And in the haven of their cabin, they were always able to shake the constraints of the captain and the doctor and revert blissfully to Frederick and Anne.

Captain and Mrs. Wentworth.

Together.

Complete.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typically it takes me months to write these. This one only took me three days, it just kinda flowed out. Sorry it's a bit short, but this is the length of story that I had story to write for. 
> 
> I know I gave you all a bunch of story ideas that I'm going to write and Wives & Daughters and Mansfield Park seem to be the favorites for next up (and don't worry, I will write them). But, my husband and I developed a plot bunny that I think I need to write next : _The House of Darcy:_ (Pride  & Prejudice/Star Trek crossover) Darcy had always assumed that duty, honor, and the glory of his house would be the guiding principals when he chose his mate, as they are for the head of any Klingon family. Elizabeth Bennet is entirely unsuitable, her father prefers to hide in his library rather than glory in battle, her mother is as interested in money as a Ferenghi, and her youngest sisters have no honor! How could any Klingon warrior overlook such deficiencies for as frivolous a thing as love? (aka Pride & Prejudice with Klingons)


End file.
